Friday, October 31, 2014

Happy Halloween! And Barbarians. And Elves. Part 9

Part 9

He seemed bored as he followed,
his dark Barbarian brows fixed in a dark Barbarian scowl as I danced over the
stone path as it rose higher, into the tops of the trees. I felt an answer in
each step, a thrum as my foot touched stone and the stone touched me, suspended
over the earth. I hummed as I moved, quickly over the stone bridges and through
the tunnels of green, where they passed trees. If he was going to be bored then
Maybe I could at least increase his stamina in the meanwhile.

“Statue of Stallius, he was
notorious for archery and good eyesight. He could see very well, which no doubt
helped his archery, to the left, the beautiful statue of… someone beautiful,” I
said as we emerged from a long, twisting tunnel that left him blinking when we
emerged into the twilight. The beautiful woman was my namesake Haedra, a
notable scholar and healer.

I focused on dancing faster,
skipping up and kicking my legs before I came down with a bustle and rush of
gauze. I spun around and caught the sidelong glance of the gardener. He gazed curiously
at me. What was I doing? I hesitated on my next step, stumbling to the base of
the one armed Centaurs statue.

My chest rose and fell as I looked
at the two, contrasting sharply with each other clearly distinguished in spite
of the dim lights that sprung up along the path.

"Gardener, who do you think
the Viceroy should meet?"

I cast a glance at the Viceroy who
took a position with his muscular arms across his chest, looking like he wanted
a mace or something like to embrace. He looked a soldier, patiently waiting for
an irritation to dissipate.

“Whoever is willing to meet the
Ambassador I suppose, Lady,” the gardener said, reminding me that he didn't
approve of the Barbarian, and that I kept using the wrong title.

I frowned fiercely at the gardener,
but he simply waited with his arms over his chest, in a similar pose as the
Barbarian neither of which seemed remotely repentant. I knew perfectly well
that my fame came far more from being a madwoman than a lady. Dancing randomly
along the sky stones lacked dignity, but they both had enough dignity for all
of us. No one seemed inclined to ensure that I stayed well behaved.

“Well then, Viceroy, you’re in
luck. All the young ladies are certain to want to meet you.When you dance be careful not to trod
on any toes. The toes of our people are very delicate.”

"Ambassador," he grunted,
but that was all. Good. Grunting was exactly what one expected of a Barbarian. We
continued on our way, passing the statues rising out of darkness in silence.

“I suppose you'll lead the dance,”
the Barbarian said as we passed next to an extremely fragrant white blooming
tree that smelled too sweet. Sickly sweet. I preferred the grunting.

“Dancing is for young ladies,” I
said as primly as I could.

The gardener snorted, and I gave
him a glare that he ignored, well, since it was getting dark and my face was
veiled it would be hard for him not to ignore it, but it still bothered me. I
walked the next hundred feet or so as sedately as a mourner.

“I would prefer not to dance with
young ladies.” He sounded grouchy, like a battle hardened captain who’d been
sent to go dancing instead of fighting.

I looked over my shoulder at him
and caught in a flash of glowlight a frown that looked more concerned than
grumpy. I raised my hand as if to brush the frown away then fisted my fingers,
forcing myself to behave as a diplomat should.

In the close darkness, the smell
of Cinnarron seemed to bloom from the Barbarian like a fragrant crushed herb,
pungent and spicy. I felt my heart thump with a beat like a drum, calling the
warriors home. When the trail of lights grew closer and closer as we neared the
High Palace, I straightened up and adjusted the gauze around my face. Maybe the
gardener was right about not springing the Barbarian on the High Precept. I felt
reluctant to take the Viceroy in to be passed around by the ladies with their
lovely arms. Who was I trying to protect, them or him? I muttered words that
not even I could quite make out, a curse or a prayer, maybe the two mingling on
my cool breath into the night air.

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About Me

I write novels about things I wish other people would write about so I could read them with the relatively small effort reading takes compared to writing. I love hats. I hate binary systems. I always meant to be a librarian but accidentally became a painter instead. My husband is the only male I've ever met who is more intelligent than I am. I suppose that's why he married me.